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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27890077">rest easy, my tortured king</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/techniclr/pseuds/techniclr'>techniclr</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, dimitri is being crazy post timeskip in the cathedral as usual, he dealt with miklan after all, no beta we die like Glenn, sylvain knows how to deal with crazy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:21:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>940</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27890077</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/techniclr/pseuds/techniclr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>in which dimitri is drowning in his ghosts in the cathedral, and sylvain is the only one who can save him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>rest easy, my tortured king</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>inspired by a prompt from twitter user @hubertification!<br/>find me on twitter @dimivainlovebot</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was cold. God, it was cold. Sylvain looked down to his fingers, barely visible through the thick blizzard around him, and dimly noticed they were purple. He pushed past the paralyzing grip fear had on his chest and he tried to scream, but no sound came out. All he could hear was the fierce blowing of the hellish winds around him, trying to wear him down into rubble. He screamed again, except this time, he heard his own voice.</p>
<p><br/>His eyes snapped open. Sylvain sat bolt upright, drenched in sweat and panting heavily. “Fuck,” he whispered to himself. He peeled his sheets off of himself - how did he get drenched in sweat? Wasn’t it cold in his dream? Disregarding that logic, he swung his legs over the side of his bed and forced himself to stand up. Hands on his hips, he stood staring at where he previously laid, hazy images of his purple hands flashing past his eyes. “Fuck,” he whispered again. He knew going back to sleep would mean more time spent on that horrid mountainside, calling for a brother that would never hear his howling screams, pleas lost in the cutting winds that plagued the mountainside.</p>
<p><br/>Shrugging on a sweater, he ambled aimlessly around the halls, not paying attention to where his feet carried him. He was walking in an alleyway when he heard it: a low muttering, interrupted by howls of pain and shouts of rage. His feet moved on their own, and suddenly he was at the door to the cathedral, and fifty feet away stood his king.</p>
<p><br/>Dimitri was as unhinged as ever, almost feral, in the way his eye would dart around and he would growl all his words out, or let loose heartbreaking howls of pain. Sometimes they would be replaced by short shouts of manic rage, often containing the words “Edelgard”, “head”, and “gates of Enbarr”. Sylvain edged closer, walking carefully as to not kick any of the rubble on the ground and startle the king. Dimitri was hunched over, leaning on Areadbhar, just a pile of furs at the foot of a mountain of rubble. He was staring at nothing, single blue eye open wide and unblinking, muttering curses and pleas under his breath. Sylvain couldn’t make out the words, but it didn’t matter. Dimitri’s shaggy hair, unkempt and limp, stuck to his forehead, and his furs were matted with dirt. Sylvain’s heart lurched at the sight.</p>
<p><br/>Sylvain had crept close enough that he could stand next to Dimitri. He cleared his throat. “Your Highness.”</p>
<p><br/>Dimitri’s crackling flow of muttered curses didn’t falter, and it seemed that he hadn’t even noticed Sylvain’s presence. “Her head, her fucking head, mother, I need it. I need to see it hung on the gates of Enbarr, lest I die forever tortured…” his monologue was interrupted by a roar of anger, which made Sylvain jump. Dimitri grabbed Areadbhar, lifted it up, and slammed it back into the ground so hard with a roar that it cracked the marble beneath it.</p>
<p><br/>Sylvain, undeterred, stepped closer. “Dimitri. Listen to me-” He reached for Dimitri’s arm, unthinking.</p>
<p><br/>In a flash, his feet were lifted off the ground and the air was punched out of him as Dimitri held him aloft by the front of his sweater. His feet dangled, and his sweater strained against his back. He instantly went slack. His eyes fluttered shut, and images of a man with hair as red as his sneered down at him in his memory, the feeling of hands pushing and shoving him, grabbing him, punching him crawling over his skin.</p>
<p><br/>“D.. Dimitri.” He forced himself to open his eyes, and to focus on the bright blue piercing stare that struck through him like an arrow. “Listen to me. You -- you have to, to come with me.” Sylvain tried his best not to pass out. It had been a long time since someone had grabbed him like this, and made him feel so small. Like he was a boy again, stranded on a mountain in the withering cold.</p>
<p><br/>His eyes lock with Dimitri’s, filled with determination. Slowly, the grip on his sweater slackens, and he sees recognition flare in Dimitri’s eye. Brokenly, softly, Dimitri says, “Syl.. Sylvain? When did you…”</p>
<p><br/>But Sylvain’s head is already falling forward, and in Dimitri’s slackened grip, he crumples to the ground, unmoving.</p>
<p><br/>He feels his weight being picked up swiftly, and Dimitri whispers something to him as he struggles to stay conscious. “Haha.. Your Highness, are we getting married?” He slurs. “You’re picking me up bridal style.”</p>
<p><br/>Something is missing - Sylvain realizes, through the thick fog that has filled his head, that Dimitri stopped muttering. Now he was silent, too silent, and walking swiftly.</p>
<p><br/>“Uh--” Sylvain jostles around a bit, indicating he’s okay to walk. “I think I should be okay now..”</p>
<p><br/>Dimitri stops abruptly and fixes him with that piercing stare. He wordlessly deposits him, and Sylvain tries to get his weak knees to cooperate. “See, Your Highness? Totally fi-” He stumbles, and almost crumples to the ground again if it weren’t for Dimitri’s strong arm grabbing him bruisingly hard by the bicep.</p>
<p><br/>“Dammit,” Sylvain curses, and tears spring to his eyes. "Even after all these years, he still gets the best of me." He let out a wet chuckle.</p>
<p><br/>Dimitri finally speaks. "Miklan is dead, Sylvain. I killed him."</p>
<p><br/>Sylvain looks up, shocked. Dimitri's face is impassive, a stone mask of apathy. But the twitch in his eye is telling.</p>
<p><br/>"Come, Sylvain." Dimitri keeps his hold on his upper arm and begins the walk back to their rooms. "Let us rest."</p>
<p> </p>
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